The outback had always been Ziggy’s home, having been born and raised on a cattle farm, three hours by horseback, from the nearest town. He was all to familiar with finding various snakes and spiders in his clothes, the oven like heat, and the sting of that red dust in his eyes when the wind kicked it up. Despite the isolation, he was all too content, having found solace spending the evenings with his younger brother, watching the sun set in the late hours in the evening.
He and his brother – Alexander Lauren Hamilton, did almost everything together, hell – Ziggy practically raised him. His parents taught him how to ride on horseback at five, how to run the cattle farm at ten, bought him a cattle dog, gave him directions to school, and the rest was up to the boy. He taught himself how to cook, how to read, how to live and raise Alex.
Ziggy’s amusement came primarily from spending hours out in the paddocks with his brother, boots shoved in the stirrups, as he herded the hundreds of cattle into their various homes, whether it be the shelters, or cattle grid. He had a fairly similar routine as he grew older, on week days, he’d be up at five, ready by five thirty, open the various cattle gates - school bag on back - before he’d start the long ride towards school.
To him, it was perfect, he started to pursue music, having purchased his first guitar at thirteen, spending every moment of his spare time composing, a cigarette gracing his lips. With the lack of parental guidance, Ziggy had a lot of freedom growing up, he had hectares upon hectares to roam, a horse to get where he wanted, and a weekly allowance. However, to earn such an allowance, Ziggy often worked extra jobs around the farm, one of which being on regular patrol around the smaller paddock with the sheep – which were often the target of thieves or teenagers from neighbouring estates.
Armed with a rifle, Ziggy spent many a night out in the dark, but as luck would have it, someone jumped the fence, causing the sheep to panic. Firing a few warning shots, he thought nothing of it, yet he didn’t notice the sounds of sirens screaming, as the man was airlifted to the nearest hospital.
Law enforcement came the next morning, dragging a struggling Ziggy out of his home, not after he had gotten a few good hits in, however. Ziggy had thanked that Alex hadn’t been home that day, but through the somewhat tedious business of trials and the supreme court, he was faced with a three-and-a-half-year sentence, with a minimum of two years served before he could apply for parole.
Everything he had build over the years came crashing down, he was jailed in the local juvenile detention centre, with seven other inmates. Despite Ziggy’s short, yet well built form, he was younger, and smaller than the other residents, who were bordering on turning seventeen, tall and built just as solidly has he was. He shared a room with three others, who had their way night, after night, after night.
Yelling and begging didn’t help, not when the metallic taste of blood touched his lips, the darkening bruises flourishing over his hips and thighs, not when pleading with the guards only ended in more suffering on his part. Uniform or not, soon he was unable to tell who was friend or foe, and after just over a year, he was all but used to their habits. Ziggy began to disassociate, unable to tell what was real and what wasn't.
Every minute of spare time was used to get stronger, whether he was pushing himself off the floor repeatedly, or doing chin ups from the bars above. Yet it was never enough to beat them. His eyes would always dart around, body constantly tense, on alert, he’d learn to defend himself to the best of his abilities, despite the worsening bruises and fractured ribs he gained.
It was the defiance that kept him going, and just over a year, someone new was thrown in his cell, after one of the previous inmates was released. He was smaller, blond, and was was the closest thing Ziggy had to a friend in the last twelve months. He – the youth being called Matthew – was the solace he had sought. They would talk, and despite the abuse Ziggy copped, he did his best to keep Matthew from the treatment. To his surprise, they left him alone, perhaps because they were satisfied with just one, but for once, Ziggy began to smile again.
He still never lost those jittery nerves, and there was that cautious feeling in his gut. He hadn’t been careful enough, he had let the others see his happiness, his joy. They came and ripped it from him, forcing Ziggy to the ground as they beat the life from Matthew, the echoes of his screams and the crunching of bones sounding for the longest hour of Ziggy’s life. He had screamed, begged, yelled and thrashed, anything to get them to stop, he would’ve done anything.
Yet nothing he said or did amounted to anything, he watched as the bloodied form was taken from the cell. Ziggy got the news mere days later, that his friend hadn’t made it due to his injuries. He fell back into the state of numbness, refusing to acknowledge the hurt that clawed at his heart. As the days grew into months, his day of release finally loomed.
He returned home, three years older, taller, stronger, and all the more a broken teen. His violent tendencies caused a disruption in his household, the smallest things could set him off, resulting in him throwing punches, the panic in his eyes evident. He was constantly tense, refusing to sleep before any of his family members. Over the six months he spent at home, the tension began to rise, until The pair of brothers were sitting on the couch, Alexander had accidentally brushed his hand against Ziggy’s thigh, causing the teen to grasp Alex’s wrist with such force that he snapped the the bone.
He was taken overseas by foreign relatives, who then, after a few weeks pushed him into the foster system, once his citizenship had been finalised. The heavily tattooed youth then ended up in a Christian home, with a new brother, new parents, and a new school. He was jumpy, even with the allowance of him being able to keep his cattle dog – Bucky. He took weeks to settle in remotely, turning up at three am after spending his evenings with alcohol and tobacco. However, he started to see the slightest resemblance between his new bother Joel, and Alex, and little by little, he began to trust him. His habits got slightly better, with his smoking habit being kept away from his parents, as he spent hours upon the balcony with his guitar once again.
Whilst struggling with city life, Ziggy tries desperately to hide what he perceives as weakness, through his aggressive behaviour, repressing memories, to his closed off and on-guard demeanour.
He lost his care for himself, and for those around him, moving from day to day with little to no care in the world.
Ziggy is incredibly aggressive, guarded and untrusting.
Whether its his almost constant passive glare, to the way he holds his back up straight, head up and muscles taught, ready to leap right into action. He is a solitary creature, who much prefers to listed to those around him than to participate in conversations, especially with his thick Australian drawl.
He refuses invitations, ignores those who he perceives as unimportant. He refuses to acknowledge most, often replying with a puff of smoke rather than words. He’d much rather spend his time singing alone, that deep, raw voice wrapping their selves around words in such a way that it brought tears to the eyes of those who had listened. He’d much rather strum lazily at the strings, working through chords with a quiet hum.
He’d let his dark sandy blonde waves fall upon his face as he played, tapping his feet ever so slightly, the smaller hint of a smile upon his lips. He adored music, it was something that he loved to waste away his time with. It was the beginning of his life at Dunshire, the catalyst for a new beginning.
Ziggy - while emotionally stunted – is incredibly resilient, there isn’t much that will faze him. He faces problems head strong, his physical strength and intelligence regarding his ability to fight giving him a sense of confidence around others. However, his icy personality prevented him from asking for help, he didn’t want to rely on others, and after two years of questionable education, his grades were horrid.
His middle school education at best, but his love for the arts - specifically music, was something he cared more for, as he struggles to sit and and focus for over twenty minutes. Despite his musical genius, his attention span is incredibly short, partly due to his jittery nerves. Ziggy’s short attention span is also paired with a dislike for small spaces, he feels cramped within the school grounds, within the city. Understanding the technology around him is incredibly difficult for the youth as well, with most of the city being this new, foreign, strange and dangerous place for the country kid.
Ziggy however, is proudly Australian, he holds his outback heritage close, if his thick accent wasn’t enough evidence that he was from regional Queensland, and as with most outback kids, he can hold his own easily in a fight, if his challenging nature wasn’t already enough. He isn’t one to shy away from a physical argument, and will throw the fist punch if need me, following a “talk shit, get hit.” Kind of attitude.
He’s a boy whose heart can’t handle the care people want to give, after being thrust into a new environment, Ziggy struggles to adapt properly, still stuck with habits for reasons he can’t quite remember.
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